


On the Other Side

by RhetoricFemme



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: JeanMarcoMonth, M/M, Nightmares, cerebral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 21:12:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16126844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhetoricFemme/pseuds/RhetoricFemme





	On the Other Side

These nights are always the same.

Cold sweat dampening otherwise warm hands, and each time Marco’s fingers slide past Jean’s, he can’t help but fear he’s losing him all over again.

“…always gonna be right here.”

He knows Jean tells the truth, but even then Marco can’t bring himself to believe it.

“…please tell me how to make you feel safe?”

 _You can’t_ , Marco wants to yell. Wants to sob at Jean before his sleep-world tosses him back into another endless darkness.

Marco shakes his head slowly, unable to find good enough words to say.

“You’re only thirty-four.” Jean sinks into another defeated sigh. “Let me convince you the end isn’t near.”

It isn’t Marco’s intention meet his husband with lightless eyes. Knows he doesn’t sound like himself when he mocks Jean’s love with such heartless renderings of what human beings refer to as laughter, and just like that he knows reality has segued into another midnight of unconscious derisions.

Reaching out, fingers lit and torn as he looks for Jean. Still unable to escape the sound of his own cruel mirth. One part of his mind begs the other to know that none of this is him. No part of it is real.

Scratches and sobs break through gaseous fathoms; partially frozen, but fighting against the inevitable burn when the incubus pushes him beneath the flames into something unnamed, empty and liminal.

Marco doesn’t stop reaching until finding what he’s looking for; the merciful violence he craves more than he thinks he deserves.

Finally, he’s there. The harsh gasp of his name in Jean’s mouth, the carpet-burn intensity of the palm at his back as he’s demanded over and over again to _please_ wake up.

Lips that taste like sodium, two sets of eyes so moist and bright while Marco clings to Jean; his lover and anchor, his heart beating visible outside of his chest.

Panting into the night, thankful for the proof that gravity is hard at work here. All he’s got left is a fervent nod and a white-knuckled grip as Jean makes good on an infinite promise that he’s kept from one lifetime and into another.

“I’m still right here.”


End file.
